


And You'll Yield To Me

by likeasugarcube



Series: Slow Like Honey [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Crossdressing Kink, Established Relationship, M/M, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 21:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likeasugarcube/pseuds/likeasugarcube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A week ago, Pete had surprised him by coming out of the bathroom wearing the jean skirt he'd picked up at a thrift store, the tightest t-shirt he owned and more eye makeup than he'd worn in years. It was supposed to be a joke. Patrick apparently didn't see it that way, his hands firm on Pete's hips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And You'll Yield To Me

They're on the floor of a hotel bathroom.

Pete's stripped down to a t-shirt and boxer briefs. Patrick's kneeling between his spread legs, still fully clothed. He has a razor in one hand and a can of shaving cream in the other. He sets them both down on the floor and wraps his fingers around Pete's ankle. He pushes until Pete's knee is up almost to his chest, his fingers trailing lightly up the back of Pete's calf, down the inside of his thigh.

Patrick stops when he gets to the edge of Pete's boxers. He looks up at Pete and offers a shy smile. It makes Pete shiver. Patrick hasn't been shy around him in a long time, he's got Pete wrapped so tightly around his finger it's ridiculous.

The razor is one of Pete's. Patrick had pulled a brand new one out of the plastic when they decided they were doing this tonight. Pete was wary at first. 

"You're pretty hairy, dude. I'm gonna need something heavy duty," Patrick reminded him.

Pete had laughed and rolled his eyes, but somehow it made it all the more real. Even more real than when they had stopped at a Walgreens several hours earlier and Patrick had ducked in to buy women's shaving cream.

"For later," he'd said, tucking the bag under his arm. Pete had felt his pulse quicken.

Patrick leans in and kisses him softly. It's just a quick brush of his lips against Pete's, but it makes heat pool in the pit of Pete's belly. Patrick leans back and reaches for the shaving cream. Pete watches as he squirts a small amount into his palm. He can smell the fake strawberry scent already. Patrick works it into lather and spreads it evenly over Pete's skin. He rinses his hands in the sink and sits back down, picking up the razor and glancing back up at Pete.

"Ready?" he asks.

"Yeah," Pete mumbles.

Patrick's fingers wind around his ankle again, steadying Pete's leg as he brings the razor to his skin. Pete inhales slowly as Patrick slides the razor up his shin. He's not used to being this still around Patrick, not on stage, and definitely not when sex is involved. And well, Patrick didn't specifically say it, but Pete assumes that's where this is going. He'd had _that_ tone to his voice, a look in his eye. 

A week ago, Pete had surprised him by coming out of the bathroom wearing the jean skirt he'd picked up at a thrift store, the tightest t-shirt he owned and more eye makeup than he'd worn in years. It was _supposed_ to be a joke. Patrick apparently didn't see it that way, his hands firm on Pete's hips.

"You should've shaved," he'd said before pushing Pete down onto the bed and yanking his skirt down and off.

Pete's skins tingles, bare like it hasn't been since he hit puberty. Spring is beating around the bush, it's too cold for anything but heavy layers, but Pete is already thinking about slinky dresses, short skirts and showing off for Patrick. _Fuck._ This was all just supposed to be a joke, but Patrick's only half way done with his first leg and Pete's already half-hard in his boxers.

Patrick rinses off the razor in the sink and runs his fingers over Pete's newly smooth skin. He flashes a grin at Pete – though it may be closer to a smirk, Pete can't actually tell – and goes back to work. When he finishes, he moves straight away to Pete's other leg without hesitation.

"So," Pete says after Patrick's finished his first drag up Pete's leg. He doesn't realize until the words are out of his mouth that he's managed to be silent this entire time. That may be a record for him. Patrick quirks an eyebrow at him, razor poised above his skin. "What next?"

Patrick laughs. He presses the razor back down to Pete's skin and pulls it up slowly. He rinses it once more and when he returns, looks Pete in the eye long enough that it’s making Pete twitchy. All of this sitting still is making him anxious, especially when he's uncertain of what's coming next. Patrick staring at him isn’t helping. 

"Well," Patrick starts. He sets the razor down and places one hand on Pete's already shaved leg. "I thought you'd put the skirt back on and we could go from there." 

He presses the palm of his other hand over Pete's crotch, his fingers curling around Pete's hard-on. Pete's breath catches in his chest. It takes a lot of effort not to push his hips up into Patrick's touch.

"Sound good?" Patrick asks.

Pete nods slowly.

"Yeah."

It seems to take an agonizingly long amount of time for Patrick to finish. Pete breathes slowly in through his nose and out through his mouth and tries to think about anything other than how hard he is.

When Patrick's finally sets the razor down, Pete is nearly about to burst at the seams. He wants to yank Patrick forward, ready to smash their mouths together, but apparently Patrick isn't done yet. He's looking for spots he's missed and then he's moving away, out of Pete's reach as he grabs a washcloth off the counter, and wipes away the remains of the shaving cream.

"Done," Patrick says softly.

He tosses the washcloth aside and his hands settle low on Pete's calves. They slide up, up, up as Pete stretches his legs back out. The tile is cold underneath his legs and Patrick's hands are hot along the insides of his thighs and Pete wants. Pete wants _so_ badly.

Patrick inches forward and presses his mouth to Pete's throat. Pete wraps his fingers around the back of his neck, pulls him up until his lips are pressed against Pete's. Patrick's hands wander as they kiss. They find their way to Pete's cock, underneath his shirt, slide around to grope his ass.

"Patrick," Pete gasps when they finally stop to breathe. 

"Yeah?" Patrick smiles.

"Fuck me," Pete says. He can hear the desperation in his own voice and he's never cared less.

"But what about the…" Patrick starts to say.

"Next time," Pete says. He reaches for the button of Patrick's jeans, gets them undone easily. He's had a fair bit of practice. "Tomorrow. Whenever. I just." He curls his fingers around Patrick's dick, jerks him off, and Patrick groans. "Don’t think I can wait."

Patrick kisses him again, bites at Pete's bottom lip as he leans back and nods.

"Okay," he says.

He hooks his fingers under the elastic of Pete's underwear and Pete lifts his hips. Patrick slides them down and off and Pete's thinking about the slide of the fabric against his smooth skin, about what it'll be like when it’s a slinky skirt instead. He feels his dick twitch and doesn't notice Patrick fumbling for the tiny bottle of hotel lotion on the counter.

Patrick grabs him by the hips and Pete flails as Patrick pulls him forward until he's almost flat on his back. He props himself up on his elbows and watches as Patrick uncaps the lotion and slicks his fingers. Patrick's settled between Pete's knees, barely any room between them. Pete can't wait to wrap his legs around Patrick's waist.

Patrick's fingers trail down behind Pete's balls, press slowly inside of him and Pete bites back a groan. He fucking loves the burn, doesn't usually let Patrick finger him too long before he's begging to be fucked. Patrick scissors his fingers, twists them, curls them forward, and Pete pushes his hips down as hard as he can.

"Fuck," he pants. "Fuck, that's good."

Patrick laughs.

"I know," he says and bends down to suck at Pete's throat. He bites his way up to Pete's mouth, pulling at long low moan from him as he goes.

"You ready?" he asks, close enough for Pete to feel his breath on his face.

"Yeah," Pete pants. “Fuck.”

He's still shamelessly fucking himself down onto Patrick's fingers. He's ready, he’s been ready. He wants to feel this tomorrow when he's on stage. Patrick kisses him hard and messy, their teeth clack together and Pete doesn't care. He sucks on Patrick's tongue and whines when he pulls away, eases his fingers out.

Pete doesn't take his eyes off Patrick as he stands. He watches as Patrick's hands go to the buckle of his belt, as he shoves his pants down and steps out of them. When his boxers follow, Pete feels his mouth go dry. He licks his lips involuntarily. If he wasn't so impatient he'd be crawling over and wrapping his mouth around Patrick's dick right now.

Instead, he's waiting, trying to be patient as Patrick kneels back down between his legs and reaches for the lotion again. He peels off his shirt and then Patrick's reaching for him, fingers curling tight around Pete's waist. Patrick bends down to kiss him and Pete winds his arms his neck as Patrick pushes inside of him.

Fuck, he thinks. _Fuck._ It hurts so fucking good and Pete can hardly stand it. He has to bury his face in Patrick's neck, can't help groaning as Patrick presses all the way in. Patrick stops moving. Pete feels his lips press against his temple, feels Patrick’s breath as he sighs. 

"Okay?" he whispers.

Pete nods, takes a second to catch his breath. 

"Yeah."

Patrick slides a hand from his waist up to his shoulders, pressing him down slowly until he's flat on his back on the floor. Patrick can always tell when Pete's trying to push too far, knows Pete's limits better than Pete knows them himself.

"Don't be so impatient," Patrick says. "I'm not going anywhere."

Pete closes his eyes and breathes. Patrick's hips are rocking against him in tiny increments. Pete doesn't know how he can stand it, how he can be so patient. He wants everything all at once, when his body protests as he gets out of bed tomorrow morning Pete wants to know that Patrick is the reason why.

Pete opens his eyes. He covers the hand of his shoulder with one of his own. Patrick laces their fingers together and pins Pete's hand down to the floor. His fingers tighten around Pete's waist and he pulls out slowly, shoves back in hard. Pete groans, squeezing Patrick's hand tightly. He tilts his hips up and spreads his legs further before wrapping them around Patrick's waist.

"Come on," he pants. "Don't stop."

Patrick smiles and bends down to press kisses along the line of his jaw. He fucks Pete slowly at first and Pete moans every time Patrick's hips slam into him. Patrick knows it drives him crazy, he doesn't hold back for very long. He thrusts into Pete hard and fast and Pete arches into it as much as he's able. He squeezes Patrick's hand as hard as possible, digs his fingers into Patrick's shoulder with his other.

"Fuck," Pete moans. "Feels so fucking good."

"You're not going to be too worn out for tomorrow are you?" Patrick asks, smiling down at him.

He's as breathless as Pete is, his face is flushed and there's a slight sheen of sweat over his forehead. He stops moving just long enough to unwrap Pete's legs from around his waist. He lifts Pete's ankles up over his shoulders, presses his knees down to his chest.

"I'm looking forward to seeing you in that skirt," he says, just before he thrusts into Pete again.

Pete's shout as he comes is not exactly the most dignified sound he's ever made, but he doesn't particularly care.

"Jesus Christ, Patrick," Pete groans. "Fucking warn a guy."

"Thought making you come was…" Patrick groans, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering slightly. "…the whole point."

Pete laughs. He rubs a hand over his face and tries to catch his breath. He'd been close for a while. It shouldn't have been that much of a surprise, but even still, he hadn't expected to come before Patrick even touched his dick.

Pete listens to the sound of Patrick's hips slamming into him, the slap of skin against skin and bites down on his bottom lip. He knows he can't get hard again so soon, but that doesn't make it feel any less amazing. Patrick's fingers dig into his thighs as he stills and Pete can feel it when Patrick comes inside of him. He pulls out and collapses on the floor next to Pete.

Pete stretches out – oh, god is he going to be sore tomorrow – and rolls onto his side to face Patrick. He smiles as he slides an arm over Patrick's waist.

"Let's go to bed," he says. "This floor is uncomfortable."

Patrick raises an eyebrow at him.

"You're the one who wanted to be fucked on it."

"Yeah, well. I don't want to sleep on it too."

Patrick laughs and kisses. He stands and helps Pete up. After cleaning up, they collapse into bed. Pete buries his face in Patrick's chest and falls asleep dreaming of short skirts and Patrick's hands on his legs.


End file.
